I roll my eyes at him. “Fine, but you’ll be organizing it. I’m not helping,” I say firmly.
“Aye, aye, captain!” He shoots me a mock salute.
“Just make sure you keep things under control. I don’t want my father involved in this. You know how important it is for me to prove him wrong.” His expression shifts to a somber one, and he nods.
“You go ahead. I have to meet with Anya for an assignment,” I say, pulling on my T-shirt. I can’t afford to be late. Otherwise, she’ll eat me alive today. I chuckle, recalling her flushed face.
“Who’s this Anya?” Louis nudges me, a playful smirk on his face. I roll my eyes, knowing he’s up to something.
“She’s just a classmate,” I say with a shrug. “We’re working on a project together.” He hums, clearly unconvinced. I just shake my head.
“I’ll head out then,” I say, picking up my duffel bag and handing it to him. He groans and I flash him a wide grin.
He nods, still smirking at me. “Alright. Have fun with your classmate.”
I walk away, raising my middle finger overmy shoulder. I hear him laugh as I exit the arena. Running a hand through my freshly washed hair, grateful for the cool evening breeze. The walk back to the café is short, but it feels like forever when I’m already dead on my feet.
I enter the café, looking for Anya. I scan the room, my eyes skimming over students, until I spot her sitting alone at a small table. She’s typing something on her laptop, completely engrossed in her work. I can’t help but notice how cute she looks when she’s focused. Her long hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, showcasing her delicate features. Her big brown eyes are fixed intently on her screen, her brows furrowed in concentration. She’s wearing a light sweater and jeans that hug her curves perfectly.
I walk over to her and pull out the chair on the opposite side. “Hey, I hope I’m not late,” I say with a small smile. She looks up from her laptop as I take a seat, her eyes widening for a moment before she composes herself.
“Hey,” she replies, a scowl on her face. I feel this weird urge to erase it.
“How do you like your coffee?” I ask. She looks at me, taken aback.
“Why do you want to know?” Her eyebrows furrow.
“I was just going to order one for myself, so I thought I’d get you one too.”
I rub my nape, unsure of how she’ll react. She raises an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of my offer. “I can buy myself a coffee,” she says, a hint of wariness in her voice. I sigh as I get up.
“Listen, I am sorry, Anya. I really am. Let me buy you coffee, and let’s move on. It wasn’t a good day for either of us yesterday,” I plead.
She looks at me for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “Fine,” she relents with a huff. “But only because I’m dying for a coffee.”
It’s a small win, but I will take it. I smile softly, feeling relieved that she’s at least willing to give me a chance to redeem myself. “Great,” I say. “What’s your order? My treat.”
She glances down at her notes, thinking for a moment before speaking. “I’ll have a caramel mocha, medium size, extra shot of espresso.”
I nod, making a mental note of her order. “Got it,” I say.
I make my way to the counter. “Hi, Cap!” Jacob greets me, his usual cheerful self.
“Hi, Jac. A caramel mocha, medium size, extra shot of espresso, and a regular for me.” He nods.
Jacob looks up from the espresso machine and raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d see you buying coffee for a girl in this lifetime.” He smirks. “You’re the only jock I know who isn’t a serial dater.”
I roll my eyes at his comment. “She’s a classmate, Jacob.” I inform him. I guess everyone is very concerned about my love life today. We fall silent and I tap my fingers against the counter until he turns around to hand me two cups of coffee. “Here you go, Cap. One caramel mocha for your ‘classmate’ and your regular,” he says, his smirk never leaving his face.
I walk to our table, placing the coffee in front of Anya. I take a seat across from her. She takes a sip from her cup and sighs, a small smile appearing on her lips. And I feel proud to know that I’m the reason—well, not actually, but I bought the coffee, so technically Iamthe reason.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
She eyes my coffee and scoffs. “Obviously, you would get black coffee. You have no taste at all.” She huffs. I laugh at her remark about my choice of coffee. She is so cute when she’s grumpy. I am using the word ‘cute’way too much for my liking.
I take a sip from my coffee and raise an eyebrow. “What exactly is wrong with black coffee? It’s a classic.”
“Classic, my foot. It’s the worst drink ever.” She pauses, her brows furrowing as if she’s thinking about something. “Well, after Coca-Cola. I absolutely hate that,” she comments, shuddering slightly as if the mere thought of the drink disgusts her.
